


Second Curse, Worse Than the First

by sweeterthankarma



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Alternate Season 2 Storyline, Canon Divergence, Curses, F/F, F/M, Gen, True Love, Unplanned Pregnancy, Wynhaught Bonding, post 2x05
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-03-05 02:39:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13378377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweeterthankarma/pseuds/sweeterthankarma
Summary: After dealing with the aftermath of one sister's death and the other's possession, finding out she's pregnant is almost enough to push Wynonna Earp into hysteria. The last thing she has time to think about is her love life, but there are more curses at stake than just the task of putting down seventy seven of her great-great-grandfather's resurrected outlaws, and figuring out where her heart lies might be the answer to a better future for herself, her unborn child, and all of Purgatory.





	1. Second Curse, Worse Than the First

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this concept has been in the back of my mind ever since Wynonna's pregnancy was revealed in 2x05 and I finally got around to writing it! The title may seem familiar, it was one of the season two taglines that I was always intrigued by it because I wondered what the second curse would be (did we ever really find out, anyways?). That ended up fueling my original theory that maybe Wynonna's pregnancy was a curse and so I decided to run with that idea.
> 
> Ratings, warnings and tags may change as the story progresses.

There’s always been a sense of freedom Wynonna’s felt when on her motorcycle. Riding through miles after miles of nothingness with the occasional dusty convenience store on the side of the road, she gets a thrill from the burning knowledge in the back of her mind telling her that if she wanted to, she could just keep going until she was as far from Purgatory as she could get. Away from the curse, away from people who only knew her as her mistakes, away from Waverly- the only reason she really stays- she imagines a life where she could start over. 

It’s always been a nice idea, one she entertains with the wind in her hair and the slight hum of her radio, overpowered by the buzz of the engine. But today, she can’t even think about it, can’t even allow herself the luxury of thinking of anything but the task at hand, the task that will be at hand for the nine months. 

_ She’s pregnant.  _

Wynonna didn’t know if she could  _ ever _ envisioned herself as a mother, and she certainly couldn’t now. Angrily, she speeds up, heel of her boot pressing roughly on the gas pedal as she thinks that maybe her teen years in juvie would have been a better time for this to happen. Not like she was really getting any action then, but Jesus, she was lonely enough. Her reputation was already tarnished. Here she is now, actually trying to repair it and even save the asses of other Purgatory citizens who she might have just let fend for themselves in the past, and now she’s taking a multitude of steps backwards. She wonders if she should start placing bets on how soon it’ll take for the words “whore” and “failure” to slip back into the regular vocabulary of those who already have a vendetta against her.

She feels a tinge of guilt just thinking so negatively- but why? She didn’t ask for this baby, didn’t want it, doesn’t even understand how this could have happened because she’s pretty bad at math but hasn’t gotten laid in quite a while so either her body is  _ very  _ delayed or…

She doesn’t let her mind wander anymore. She turns up the radio, takes a breath when she passes a sign saying she’s only ten miles from her destination.

She’s going to handle this. After all, she doesn’t really have a choice. 

She never really ever did. 

  
  
  


Seeing her mother is weird. 

_ Mama  _ is what she, Waverly and Willa used to call her, but the word feels too small in her mouth now, like it doesn’t fully take into account how many times she left, the one time she left for good, and all the pain she’s endured. Wynonna imagines a label next to her face, similar to the ones she’s seen in television shows- usually bad television shows- when the writers assume viewers won’t be able to keep track of characters. Her mother is barely a mother, hasn’t followed the handbook and hasn’t  _ been there.  _ That fact alone stirs a heat brewing in her stomach, thinking of Waverly- always Waverly- alone and scared and much too well acquainted with grief for someone who wasn’t even a teenager yet. 

Wynonna and her mother sit by a river, far apart because it feels weird- wrong, even- to sit too close. This woman doesn’t know her. Doesn’t even know Waverly, doesn’t know how she’s doing well and made a positive name for herself in Purgatory and even has a tall, gorgeous cop girlfriend who actually treats her like she’s worth the world. Which she is.

It just makes Wynonna seethe even more to think about it, knowing that so much of the pain her sister is due to their fucked up family. She’s apart of it, she’s the cause of a great deal of that pain and she knows it, suffers with it every day. She doesn’t always know how to show it but it hurts her so deeply, some days she feels like she shouldn’t even be in Purgatory because she’s just making Waverly’s life harder. But she knows that’s not true, knows that Waverly is making her better and she needs that structure to get better, to not stoop as low as her mother has- and does, seeing as she’s still hiding out in the forest like a goddamn forest elf. She knows that a found family is sometimes better family, and she embraces the one she has now, with Doc, Dolls, Nicole, Jeremy and Rosita. They’re both at her side and at her throat, and she couldn’t imagine it any other way.

    “So, I assume you didn’t come all the way here just to sit in silence,” her mother finally says and her voice is rougher, less relenting than Wynonna remembers. Like she’s angry for having to see her own child. Wynonna wouldn’t be surprised if she was. 

She sighs. “Um...you were the only person who would know. It’s not something that’s going to be easy for me to talk about, I’ve barely spoken about it with Waverly.” Her sister’s name burns on her tongue, like her mother doesn’t deserve to hear it.

    “So, I know there were some... _ catches  _ with the curse,” Wynonna continues. “Especially with the heir being female, since most of the other heirs were male. You never taught me all of them and you didn’t leave any of the papers at the homestead, so I was hoping you either had them here or by some chance, you remembered everything and would be able to tell me them.”

Wynonna’s eyes meet her mother’s, holding her gaze for the first real time all day, and they’re not hard, but just tired. The tension built up in her chest alleviates for a moment, but then Wynonna remembers why she’s here, remembers that she had to lie to Waverly, remembers that she had to travel so far just to get information that should have been in her possession to begin with.

Her mother purses her lips, gives her a sad sort of smile. It’s lopsided and not genuine, in the same way that the painted girls on the “welcome to Purgatory” sign look almost eerie, but Wynonna can’t focus on that, can’t even see straight because Mama’s eyes go right to her stomach, in one motion and Jesus Christ, she knows. 

    “I figured,” Mama says. “I didn’t think there was anything else that could be so serious as to make you come here with no warning-”

    “Not like I can send you a letter or a Snapchat,” Wynonna barks back too quickly, too harshly and she wants to regret it because she knows she should, but she doesn’t. 

Her mother just looks at her. “It happens on or around the time you turn twenty seven. I sent you a birthday card, by the way. Didn’t know if you got it.” The passive-aggressive tone in her voice is enough to make Wynonna get up to leave, but she doesn’t because  _ good God there is a growing fetus inside of her and this cannot happen  _ and _ of course her mother is the only one with the answers.  _

__ “Yeah, I did,” Wynonna replies. “Had to burn it though, couldn’t let Waverly see it.”

Mama’s face softens at the mention of Waverly. “How is she?”

    “None of your damn business,” Wynonna says, but there isn’t heart behind her words. “So what’s up with my body? How do I fix this? I don’t have much time.”

    “Got a date waiting on you?” 

Wynonna doesn’t know how to respond. It’s a joke, but still. She doesn’t find her mother very funny and besides, the images of Doc- and Dolls, and shit, even Perry- are in her mind and she wants them out, wants to be able to breathe the way she did before. Breathing was hard before, but now she’s breathing for two, and that’s terrifying. 

Her mother hunts around in a backpack that Wynonna didn’t even realize was beside her, and quickly hands her a torn journal of water-stained papers.  _ Too  _ quickly- she wonders if she’d been counting down the days before she finally caved and visited, hunting for answers.

    “All your answers should be in there,” Mama says, and her words scare the shit out of Wynonna.

Still, unwilling to show fear in front of her, she starts to flip through the pages, scanning through words and statements she already understands:  _ “seventy seven outlaws, must be returned to Hell directly through the usage of the Colt .45 Buntline Special gun, labeled Peacemaker, only with a shot directly to the head, must be handled by the heir, there can only be one heir.” _

Wynonna scoffs when she reads that. Of course her and Willa were both able to be the heir, but Waverly never could. Sure, she wasn’t twenty seven yet, but still- unfairness ran deep in the curse, was unavoidable in daily life. All bullshit.

She keeps reading.  _ “When the heir turns twenty seven, they will gain the ability to handle Peacemaker. Male heirs will be encouraged to marry and produce offspring...”  _ Wynonna shudders at the word choice,  _ “...in order to ensure that there be a potential future heir in the scenario that the current heir is unable to break the curse.” _

Wynonna sees words out of her peripheral vision as she keeps reading, presumptive letters strung together, referring to what she thinks is going on with her and Jesus Christ, she doesn’t want this, doesn’t need this. 

_ “If the heir is female, she will carry offspring by the time she turns twenty eight. The time of fertility may vary depending on the individual’s body. Male sperm may assist this process in the circumstances that the heir is already attempting to have offspring…”  _ Wynonna shudders again.  _ “...or is engaging in unprotected sexual intercourse. In circumstances of female heir pregnancies, abortions are not suggested and another offspring will begin its growth soon after. The offspring, if not the child of an individual who participated in unprotected sexual intercourse or was attempting to become pregnant, will be related to the individual whom the heir truly loves deeply.” _

    “What the fuck?!” Wynonna wants to scream but the words barely come out. She just manage to force the syllables out of her throat before the tears sting at her eyes and anger coils in her gut and she thinks she might actually fall over the ledge, drop into the river below like a stone. That might be preferable.

Mama doesn’t reach out to touch her, she knows better. Wynonna stares at the worn pages of the journal, rereading the words over and over until they make sense. She knows they won’t, no matter what she does. Nothing about this makes sense.

    “So who the fuck decided to come up with these rules?” Wynonna says finally, staring her mother dead in the eye like it’s her fault. It’s not. This is one thing that she knows isn’t her fault.

    “I don’t know, Wynonna,” she replies. Her voice is soft, almost apologetic. “I don’t know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, stay tuned for future chapters soon! I'm not quite sure how long this will end up being, but likely not longer than ten chapters max. Feel free to leave me comments or send me requests for future fics either here or on my Tumblr at the same username!


	2. Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a ridiculously long break, the second chapter is here! I really do want to finish this story, especially with how awfully canon has fucked us over as of late, but life and other fics have gotten in the way. I hope this chapter makes up for it, especially since there's more on the way soon, and I mean that!

When Wynonna shows Waverly the journal, she explains everything except the person she got it from. She has good reasoning and enough fire in her heart towards her mother to burn all of the Ghost River Triangle to the ground and she doesn’t want Waverly to know because she’s always been so positive and hopeful, and Wynonna’s afraid that her knowledge of her mother might take that away from her. Her mother, period, might take that away from her.

She doesn’t want to lie to her. It stings just to imagine the pain Waverly would feel from finding out about it, but she knows it’s nothing compared to what her mother has done and what she could do. They don’t talk about her much, just as they don’t reminisce on their father or even Willa too much. Not like they’ve had a chance to stop and breathe and let themselves grieve for more than a few hours at most, but they’re Earps, after all —   they’re good at avoidance tactics. 

From what Waverly’s said, Wynonna knows she doesn’t know much about her mother, and she doesn’t want to control her, knows she hates that and doesn’t deserve it, but that things are better, easier this way.

    “Holy shit…” Waverly says under her breath, solemn, as she reads the last page of the journal. “Is this real? Where’d you find this? Are you sure?”

    “Waves, you brought me three different types of pregnancy tests,” Wynonna replies, deflecting. “This is real. All of it, this is happening. No doubt about it.”

    “Yeah, but a lot of doubt about who the father is,” Waverly says, and Wynonna sighs. She doesn’t want to think about that aspect. It just makes things ridiculously more complicated and she knows she needs to face this, needs to get herself under control and start taking precautions but it’s so  _ scary  _ and of all the things she’s had to do, this is the one that’s freaked her out the most. She can’t change it, can’t solve it, she just has to deal with it. She has to carry a child, give birth to it, and take care of it, but none of those things seem even remotely plausible, especially not the last one. She can barely take care of herself and her sister, and they just got Dolls back and Doc is so hard to read and Nicole is wonderful but it’s hard to let new people into her life so she doesn’t fully trust her even though she knows she should, and God, it’s all  _ too much. _

She barely realizes she’s crying until Waverly envelops her in a hug, scent of her perfume familiar and sweet, smelling like home. She rubs her back, slow and comforting, the way she’s done for her so many times, and she tucks her chin into her shoulder and lets herself weep.

    “I don’t want this,” Wynonna chokes out. “There’s enough to do, enough to worry about without having to be a mother of a baby I don’t want. I’ve been on birth control for over ten years, I don’t know how…”

    “I know,” Waverly responds, quiet and soft and sad, against her shoulder. “I know, I don’t know what to say.”

    “There’s nothing you can. Everything’s fucked, Waves. It’s all  _ fucked.” _

Waverly soothes her, lets her seeth. She settles her on the couch, stays beside her for what feels like hours, maybe is, and she cries too. She tries to stifle it, hopes Wynonna won’t notice because there’s not enough hours of the day for her to have to worry about her too , even though she always does. Her tears fall into her sister’s darker hair as she mumbles against her lap, whimpers and sobs aching and deep, and Waverly doesn’t know what to do. 

    “I’m not saying it’s going to be okay,” Waverly says, the words coming out before she can stop herself and they’re not enough, not nearly enough, not to encompass the situation or to help Wynonna in the way she deserves. “I’m just saying...I’m here.”

  
  


The next day at work, Wynonna barely talks, and Dolls notices. Doc doesn’t, really— he’s gone off to somewhere, preoccupied with something Wynonna can’t bring herself to care about or even wonder about, and every time she’s seen him today he’s been drinking. 

_ That’s a mood,  _ she thinks, and god, she wants a drink. She can’t have one though— or at least, she doesn’t think she can, although this is a supernatural baby so maybe the typical childbearing rules don’t apply to her, which in that case maybe this whole mother thing could be more bearable so she’ll have to ask Waverly to do research and— 

    “Earp.” Dolls’ voice snaps her out of her thoughts, and when she looks up to see him standing over her she can’t help the thrill that rushes through her. She pushes it down, though.  _ Not now, hormones. Priorites. _

She realizes suddenly, though, that she has a lot more hormones inside of her now than before, that she’s going to be eating for two and drinking for two— water, that is— and then once this thing— okay,  _ baby,  _ it’s not a gremlin— is out of her she’s going to have to spend the rest of her life taking care of it. She’s too young to know if she ever even wanted children, but now that decision is made for her. Part of her wonders if maybe she’s lucky, her fate has been chosen for her. But no, that’s been her entire life, and her fate has never been good. What kind of twisted faith would she need in order to believe this would be any better?

    “Earp,” Dolls says again, and this time his voice isn’t irritated but rather just concerned. He’s peering at her through dark lashes, curious, and out of her peripheral vision Wynonna can see Waverly and Nicole outside of the office windows, definitely whispering. 

Wynonna heaves a deep breath before taking a long gulp of her too hot coffee. It burns her tongue but she shakes her head and pretends its whiskey. She isn’t even supposed to be having much caffeine anymore given her  _ condition, _ if any at all, but she needs it today, for this and then she’ll start really cutting it out. She looks up at him and bites her lip, hard. 

She needs to tell him. She has to tell him, to explain before he hears it from a pedestrian on Main Street; she’s betting on eight hours before she becomes casual conversation at Shorty’s between the frequent customers that used to be on the Purgatory High School cheerleading team. She’s an Earp, after all; it’s a little surprising her news isn’t on the front cover of the newspaper already.

She stutters, unable to get a single word out. Dolls is still watching her and she’s flushing, so she tries her best attempt at a smile and says innocently, albeit cluelessly, “hi.”

He arches his eyebrows at her. “Hi. You good?” He waves his hand in front of her face, and she feigns being insulted until she sees the smile lift at the edges of his lips. She’s missed that smile. Not like she ever saw it too much when he was around, but still…

    “Tired,” Wynonna says, and it’s not a lie. “Got a lot on my mind.”

    “Anything you’re at liberty to discuss?” Dolls asks, and he’s back to his boss voice. He’s not smiling anymore, and Wynonna knows he’s probably thinking something happened between her and Doc, so she quickly insists it’s not that. Why, she’s not sure— she’s never felt the need to defend her actions or her feelings (they’re hard enough, she owes herself to at least stay faithful to them) but she remembers the guilt in her chest when she’d pulled away from Dolls’ kiss at the Wainwright only to see Doc, and then the guilt had only amplified when Dolls had stepped away from her, stoic expression taking over, almost regretful. She didn’t regret it, she wants him to know that— she hasn’t really felt alive or hopeful since that moment, even if it was a strange mix of grief and fear and lust and relief that had hit her all at once. She still doesn’t really understand it, but it’s not like life has given her any time to slow down and process everything she’s endured. Twenty eight years of life and she needs at least a goddamn year to be able to work through everything that had happened to her in her youth, let alone her teen and adult years.

    “Okay,” Dolls says, and Wynonna can tell he doesn’t entirely believe that this isn’t about Doc. Wynonna supposes, in a way, it actually is. “Is it Waverly?”

Wynonna nods at that. “I guess I have something to tell you.”

He sits, perched at the edge of the table, and waits. He’s ridiculously patient, and Wynonna can’t keep anything in anymore. Her words come out carelessly, before she really knows what she’s saying, and she’s only explaining part of the truth, how she’s known where her and Waverly’s mother was all these years but never told her— and then Dolls interrupts her.

    “I knew that,” he says simply. Wynonna’s jaw drops a little bit.

    “What?”

He shrugs. “Yeah.”

    “How?”

He doesn’t answer, and it takes a few seconds before Wynonna gets it. She rolls her eyes, and then shoves him. “Do you spend every waking minute of your life tracking me?”

    “I do it while I’m sleeping too,” he deadpans, before chuckling. “I’m a government agent, Wyn, I did my research.”

Something deep in Wynonna’s stomach coils, churns, and burns.  _ Wyn.  _ He’s never called her that before. He’s relaxed, more so now than he’s ever been with her now that he’s back in Purgatory, safe and rescued from Black Badge, and she’d really wanted to plan some grand romantic gesture upon his return, or at least make out with him a little bit. Now, that seems plausible, but it wouldn’t be fair considering what she’ll have to tell him eventually. 

She wonders if it means something that she’d missed him so much when he was gone, craved him and felt like something was off in her life without him around to give her orders and be her boss and flirt with her, in that subtle, almost imperceptible way he always had. She thinks that’s maybe her answer, but life has never been that simple for her, and she doesn’t think she’s in a position in her life where she can truly know who her heart belongs to, if anyone at all. 

_ There’s a difference between pure, honest love and crushing,  _ she tells herself, even as a voice in the back of her mind offers the idea that maybe she should take the little confidence she has and run with it. 

She doesn’t do cardio, though.

What she does do, however, is make an excuse to go to the bathroom and rush out to visit Waverly and Haught, because Dolls seems to be eternally staring at her in  _ that way  _ and it’s making it increasingly difficult to spit out the words “I’m supernaturally pregnant and I don’t know who the father is but it could be you, even though we’ve never had sex.”

Waverly and Nicole both look up, eyes wide, when Wynonna bursts through the door. 

    “Hi, so I know you definitely already told her,” Wynonna drawls with an obvious undertone of well-deserved snark geared towards her sister, “so I need some advice. Like, now, and make it good.”

Nicole bites her lip, not wanting to be the first to speak and Waverly stares at her and Nicole’s intertwined hands, blushing.

    “I know I shouldn’t have said anything, I’m sorry,” she says meekly, giving Wynonna her most apologetic face. “I just needed someone to talk about it with because it’s so new and crazy and exciting and unexpected and Nicole is _ really  _ good with secrets, believe me, so I told her in utmost confidence that she wouldn’t tell anyone else, and I knew she’d find out anyway.”

Wynonna brushes her apology off with a vague wave of her hand. “Whatever, Waves, it’s fine, as long as you both keep your mouth shut from now on until I tell Dolls. And Doc, and Jeremy, although I definitely know it’s not his kid.”

Nicole smiles at that.

    “So, what do you need help with?” Waverly asks. “Want us to your wing women while you woo the man of your dreams?”

Nicole nudges her, and Waverly giggles. “Or woman, you never know.  _ I _ didn’t know.”

Nicole looks at Waverly with honest to god heart eyes, and Wynonna has to look away as they touch foreheads and rub noses and kiss each other’s cheeks. Somewhere through the blinds of the window, she sees the gray of Dolls’ sweater as he moves around the office. 

She turns back to her sister and her girlfriend once they’re facing her again, shoulders leaning on each other and hands still clasped on the brunette’s knee. Wynonna’s hit with another wave of dread and hopelessness— she doesn’t know if she can ever imagine herself in their place, with a love of her own.

    “What do I say to Dolls?” Wynonna asks quietly. “I...I don’t know what we are and I don’t want to lose him but...I don’t know. I don’t know what I want. Actually, I know I don’t want  _ this.”  _ She gestures towards her stomach, and instantly tears fill her eyes.  _ Weak,  _ she thinks to herself,  _ keep it together.  _

But then Nicole’s free hand is on Wynonna’s arm in seconds, and she lets herself breathe. 

    “Hey,” she says, voice gentle, and suddenly Wynonna understands what drew Waverly to her. She’s kind, gentle, sure of herself and sure of where she’s going; she’s a beacon of stability in a world that’s been anything but consistent. When Wynonna looks into her eyes, they’re honest and empathetic. They remind her of Waverly, she has that same tenderness, although she’s far less acquainted with the intentions and heart of the redhead. 

    “Just tell him the truth,” Nicole says. “You don’t have to have it all figured out. No one expects you to, especially not here in Purgatory under these circumstances.”

    “That’s for sure,” Waverly adds, and Wynonna can’t help but scoff. 

    “Says the most put together person to ever walk the earth.”

Waverly rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well, not always. It’s not easy.”

    “You’re doing better than me, baby girl,” Wynonna replies.

Waverly shrugs, then reaches out to grasp her hand, squeezing it tight. 

    “I love you,” she says. “You’ll get through this.”

Wynonna blinks back her tears, wiping haphazardly at her ears before standing straight again.

    “I love you, too,” she replies. “At least I know that.”

Nicole gives her a sad kind of smile. When she walks towards the door, Waverly calls, “hey, maybe I’m the father of your baby!”

Wynonna and Nicole both turn to give Waverly a look at the same time. Nicole just looks confused, and Wynonna laughs. 

    “Nothing like incest jokes to relieve tension, huh, babygirl?” Wynonna mutters, before opening the door to the office. “You’re catching on to my humor, finally.”

Behind her, Waverly chuckles. “Only took me twenty three years.”

Wynonna can hear Waverly explaining the terms of the curse— the second one, now— to Nicole, how the person she truly loves is the parent of her baby. Nicole, understanding, starts spitting out names and theories, and it’s irritating in a way, but Wynonna knows she needs her around, needs people like her and Waverly and Dolls to be rational thinkers who take the time to observe and evaluate things. 

_ Dolls.  _ He stands before her, clearly knowing something was up because she was bonding with Haught, and Wynonna braces herself. She opens her mouth to speak, ready and honest and vulnerable, and her heart shakes in her chest. 

    “I’m—” she starts, and then suddenly, everyone's asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reinventing canon is so much fun I already love doing it far too much. If you enjoyed this, please let me know what you think, either in the comments or at my Tumblr @sweeterthankarma!


End file.
